


I just wanna be a good guy

by Amilia_Farem



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Gen, Rated T for swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amilia_Farem/pseuds/Amilia_Farem
Summary: It was early morning, Phil was late to a job he didn’t like, and there was an angel on his doorstep. The man really fucked up something really big in his last life, didn’t he?Or: a self-indulgent guardian angel AU about two creatures learning about each other's worlds. With a twist.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 27





	I just wanna be a good guy

Phil’s morning wasn’t going well, and the sudden buzzing of the doorbell didn’t help his already horrible mood. He spilled coffee onto his white shirt and had to change into the only clean one, which turned out to be of bright yellow colour with an ugly pink flower pattern that his coworkers gave him as a joke on his last birthday. His phone was refusing to turn on even though it was charging the whole night, and he had no way of warning his students he would be late because his alarm clock just so happened to also be set on the mobile device and didn't ring. Phil walked to open the door while tying the tie around his neck and cursing all the higher powers for his terrible luck, wishing he could just stay at the flat today and not have to spend time teaching sleep-deprived children history while they didn’t even try to pretend to be paying attention.

”If you’re here about the angel abuse again, I don’t even have one, so you people can fuck right off,” the man said in the friendliest tone he could muster while sporting a burn on his chest and a pair of bags as dark as the sky outside under his eyes.

”I’m not here about that, but I really hope you’re not going to beat me or anything.”

Phil stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes widened as he finally bothered to pay attention to the person that decided that visiting him at 7 am was a good idea. The problem was… it wasn’t quite a person. In front of the man stood an abnormally tall man with long pink hair tied with a white band into a loose ponytail. He was wearing a pristine white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the stranger’s elbows and trousers of the exact same shade. But the weirdly clean clothes and the unusual colour of the visitor’s hair wasn’t the most notable thing; instead, it was the pair of beautiful pearly wings behind his back, all of their feathers the size of Phil’s open palm and trembling slightly. As the owner of the flat watched the stranger’s tight smile that looked too polite to be comfortable, he had a strong urge to shield his eyes from the glow the visitor seemed to emit, but Phil knew it would almost definitely not be a nice thing to do. 

It was early morning, Phil was late to a job he didn’t like, and there was an angel on his doorstep. The man really fucked up something really big in his last life, didn’t he?

”You’re Philza Minecraft, right?”

Phil nodded numbly, still not quite sure how to react to the situation, the tie he was fiddling with a moment before now hanging around his neck in a complicated knot that would be a nightmare to deal with later. The angel’s smile became less strained at the confirmation, and he reached out a hand for Phil to shake.

”Good, I thought I got the wrong address. I’m Technoblade, your newly assigned guardian angel.”

Phil didn’t know what he was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. 

There were some things Phil knew since he was a little kid. First: school sucked. Second: everyone on Earth had a guardian angel, a pure and wise creature that would help you throughout your life and be there to support you, making sure you’re never alone. And third: Phil himself was an exception.

His parents always denied it, reassuring the boy that everyone had an angel just for them, and Phil was no different. 

”Some people are just a bit more special and the Above need to find an angel that would be just as unique,” his mother used to tell him before planting a kiss on his forehead which made the boy scrunch his nose in distaste. But her words were comforting, and for a year or so he was proud to be the only student in his class to not have a guardian angel. But the pride continued to fade, as he watched his classmates and friends come home from school holding hands with both their mum and their angel, the schoolyard turning into a snowfield with the number of creatures showing up to meet their charges. Kids were cruel, and angels, although meant to teach children and help them know right from wrong, weren’t always there to stop them from spitting out mean words and laughing at their peers. For some time Phil grew resentful of angels: he avoided them at all costs, skipped all angel-informative classes at school and refused to come home when his parents’ guardians were visiting. Adult Phil didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing that his mum’s and dad’s angels didn’t live with them and distanced themselves when their charges got married, becoming good family friends instead of ever-present guides and assistants. The man had respected and loved them both greatly when he was a child, so maybe if they were there more often they could’ve dealt with his teenage hate before it bloomed, but now wasn’t the time to regret their absence. In the end, Phi’s attitude to angels got better after he graduated, and angels became a part of daily life that just wasn’t as present in his own as he had once wanted it to be.

Most people got their angels at the age of 12 to 14, and at 18 at least 70% of the population had their guardian. At age 25 only 5% lacked an angel, and Phil remembered the feeling of bitterness as he entered that unlucky 5%. So it came as a big surprise when a winged creature was waiting for him at the end of his workday to announce brightly that his name was Ranboo and he was assigned to be his guardian. 

At first Phil thought it was someone’s cruel joke, but the unmistakable glow and the inexplicably warm aura of the stranger in a teenager’s body let him know that he really was an angel, and angels weren’t ones for pranks as far as he could tell. He was lost, but after gaining his composure he offered the creature to come home with him, not quite confident in the next course of action. Angels were there for support and guidance, but he already knew most things one should know about life, and judging by the creature’s shy and hesitant appearance and the way he was trying to fill in the awkward silence on the way home with useless animal facts, he didn’t really know what to do either. “Maybe it’s normal for their first day”, Phil thought that evening. He wanted to reassure the kid somehow, but after a full day of talking over people that were about the same age as the angel’s form looked the idea of having a conversation with him was the least appealing of all. So after coming home Phil turned on the tv in the living room, put some clean bed linen on the couch (he didn’t know if angels slept and at this point was too afraid to ask) and crashed on the bed in his room immediately after. Having a guardian angel after such a long time of excited waiting, hope, anger and finally resignation felt surreal, so he decided to deal with it tomorrow with a clear head. As it turned out, there was no need to worry about it, as the next morning the man woke up to all the linen untouched, breakfast made from products he didn’t remember buying on the kitchen table, and a note saying ‘We’ve decided that the angel known as “Ranboo” was not an optimal choice for the position of your guardian. We apologize deeply and will ensure that you meet an angel that will be perfect for you, but the search may take some time. Thank you for your patience, and blessings of the Above.’

Phil didn’t know the exact reason why Ranboo was deemed “unsuitable”, but he didn’t feel the need to find out. On the other hand, he knew what notes of that sort ensued: it reminded him strongly of all the jobs he applied to after graduation where he was assured the company would contact him later by a clearly disinterested employee only to never get a call from them again. Something about him was so inherently wrong that no angel would fit him, and after years of feeling frustrated and inferior because it the man came to the conclusion that it didn’t really affect him or show his value as a person. He could manage on his own, he wasn’t lonely for the angel to be his only personal connection like they were for some less communicable or fortunate people, and sometimes he even felt like not having an immortal creature constantly watching his back helped him be more independent, in a sense. Phil spent decades trying to find all the positive sides of not getting a guardian, so by the age of 32 the man was a professional in that field. So after making sure Ranboo was, in fact, real, but just didn’t stick around for whatever reason, Phil shrugged and went on with his day, which just so happened to be Saturday, the day he usually went out for drinks with his friends. The man cleaned some of the mess in his flat, spent an evening in a nice bar sharing stories about his students, admittedly drinking slightly more than he usually did, lied in bed for most of Sunday with a bad hangover, and plugged in the charger for his phone only to find out on Monday that it didn’t work and open a door to yet another angel that claimed to be his guardian. 

All of it flashed in Phil’s mind as he stood at his doorstep, staring blankly at the hand that was offered to him by the pink-haired angel, not sure how he got into this situation. He always thought that it was rude to leave people hanging, even when they weren’t actually human people, so after a moment of long and awkward staring Phil finally took the hand and shook it weakly. The angel’s skin was warm, hot even, and Phil wondered if it was natural for all angels or just this one. The handshake lasted for less than a second, because angels were one thing, but the man still needed to pay bills, so work was at the top of Phil’s list of priorities. 

”I don’t know what to tell you, mate.” Phil said, walking back into the hall and standing in front of the mirror to deal with his tie. “I’m really late and not very interested in… whatever you’re offering. So go back to your higher-ups and tell them Philza Minecraft is off the list or whatever it is you guys use.”

”Wait, what?” the angel asked, and the man saw him lean slightly over the doorstep but not stepping into the apartment, which Phil appreciated. 

”What I said, dude. I’m fine on my own. I’m sorry you had to go all that way, but… damn it.” Phil clenched his jaw and sighed in annoyance, his useless tie refusing to cooperate. He glanced at the clock he could barely see hanging on the kitchen wall and swore again when he saw that the bus he usually used to get to work had probably already left. On the contrary, the winged creature on his doorstep hadn’t. He was still standing there, a lost expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Phil sighed again, now in exasperation, and gave up on his appearance, instead walking up to the angel and putting a hand on his shoulder. The creature tensed up at the gesture and the man pulled his arm back, feeling slightly guilty. He was used to his parents’ guardians being tactile, but maybe this one was different.

”Listen, kid,” the visitor opened his mouth and the expression on his face changed to that of indignation, but Phil didn’t let him put in a word, “I’m sorry you got me as your charge, I know that it sucks to be refused a job. I’m sure you’re great at the angeling business, but I’m not the person you’re looking for. If there’s any way for me to write a recommendation letter or something, I will, but that’s all I can do.”

Phil threw the tie down on the floor, grabbed his coat from the hanger, put it on and picked up his bag before walking out of the flat and shutting the door behind himself. While he was locking it the man couldn’t help but notice the angel was still standing next to him, not moving, and the sheer stubbornness of the creature was starting to get on Phil’s nerves. 

’He can stand here all he wants, I’ll be gone the whole day, and he’s gonna get bored eventually. I’ve already told him about my decision, so I hope the Above stop sending teenagers with wings my way,’ the man thought as he waited for the lift to get to his floor. Finally, it came and Phil got in and pressed the button, deliberately not looking at the angel who still didn’t seem to move from his spot. Phil wasn’t lying – he knew what it was like to get rejected by an employer, which he would be, of sorts. He lost a lot of job opportunities when the companies he applied to got wind of him not having a guardian, which, if you asked Phil, was some unfair bullshit that he’d had to deal with. But that didn’t mean he had to sacrifice his comfort for a stranger whose help he really didn’t need. 

Phil exited the lift cage and then the building where he’d lived for the last 5 years of his life. The man broke into a run to catch the bus coming up in about 5 minutes and barely reached the stop as the vehicle arrived. When he finally managed to squeeze in the overcrowded bus, his only concerns were not getting his good shoes stepped on and not suffocating in a swarm of sleepy uncaring bodies. Any and all thoughts about angels and guardians almost flew out of his head, and the farther away from his flat Phil drove, the more insignificant his feathered problem seemed. 

# # # # #

Phil’s afternoon wasn’t as bad as his morning had been. It turned out to be much, much worse. He arrived even later than he anticipated because of terrible traffic jams and got laughed at by his 16-year-old students because of his ruffled look and interesting choice of clothing, but even their teacher’s unusual appearance wasn’t a good enough reason for most of them to actually pay attention to him or the lesson’s material. He got a headache by the end of the second class, and the lack of coffee that he didn’t get the opportunity to drink didn’t help matters. He wanted to get at least the crappy one at the cafeteria, but his plans were cut short by a fire drill he was warned about last week but had completely forgotten about. At the end of the day, Phil felt like his soul was about ready to leave his body, and every noise seemed a personal attack of someone out to get him. The man left the school with his bag full of paper he needed to grade and a migraine, so when the doors of his apartment’s lift opened to reveal a familiar angel sitting on his porch, Phil’s urge to snap and commit murder was at its peak. As soon as the creature noticed the appearance of the flat’s owner, he hurriedly stood up and put his arms behind his back and straightened, 

”Hello, Mr. Minecraft. It’s good to see you again. Had a nice day?” 

Phil heard the sound of teeth gnashing and it took him a moment to realize the teeth in question were actually his. He stood right in front of the unwanted guest and had to raise his head unnaturally high to look him in the eye, but Phil couldn’t give less of a shit.

”Get. Out.” 

The man wanted for it to sound threatening and menacing, but his voice just sounded tired and even whiny, and he wanted nothing more than to eat the leftover pizza, have a nice warm shower, get into bed and forget this day ever happened. The angel, however, seemed to have other plans.

”Please, this is so important to me. The Above are not kind with those who don’t do their job properly, let me tell you.” Seeing as Phil didn’t seem impressed or moved by his words, the angel stopped pulling his frankly speaking not that impressive pity-inducing face and decided to change tactics. “If you really don’t want me to be your guardian – completely understandable. But hear me out: give me a one month trial period. Just one month, and if you decide that’s all the time you can tolerate me, I’ll leave and tell the higher-ups to never bother you again. In the meantime, I can help you with whatever you need help with. I just need a month to not get fined, please.”

That made Phil pause his intense staring and blink in confusion.

”You guys get fined?”

The angel nodded sagely, “Absolutely. It’s terrible. So what do you think?”

Phil thought. It really didn’t seem like such a bad idea – he would lose nothing and finally experience something his child self would commit crimes for. ‘Unless he will leave, just like that Ranboo guy did’, said a venomous voice in the man’s head which he refused to take seriously. The creature seemed desperate enough to deal with whatever made Phil so unappealing to angels, and maybe he would get to actually learn what that trait was. But would he be able to deal with it again..? After another long moment of hesitation, Phil sighed heavily and took out his keys. As he turned towards the door to unlock it, the man saw the angel’s face fall and his shoulders drop, the winged creature now a picture of resignation. Phil heard the lock click and opened the door before glancing at the angel and waving his hand in a wordless invitation. Every feather seemed to rise into the air slightly, and the visitor’s face lit up, briefly but unmistakably. He stepped to the door instantly and held to the bewilderment of the flat’s owner, but the angel waited patiently until Phil got the message and stepped over the porch. The creature followed right after, shutting the door behind both of them.

”Just for one month,” Phil mumbled, not sure who he was trying to convince here: his brand new guardian angel or himself. “Just one, and after that we’ll both go on our merry ways.”

”Yep,” the angel said a touch too brightly for someone who was going to be fired in a month’s time from a job he wouldn’t even get paid for. Did angels get paid..?

”In a month, I’ll stop being your guardian angel if you want me to.”

Phil nodded firmly and went to hang his coat, but stopped mid-motion.

”Wait. What did you say your name was?”

”Technoblade. You can call me Techno though.”

Phil nodded again, now softer.

”Alright. Then call me just Phil. Only my students call me Mr. Minecraft.”

The man glanced once again at a winged man in his flat that he was seeing for the first time and shook his head. This was going to be a long, long month.


End file.
